Enclave Ascendant
by Captain Rodolpho
Summary: After the bombs fell, they must've killed everyone with a shred of humanity in the Old World. This story is my second attempt at changing that, starting at the roots. T for conflict, starting with Chapter two. Note- I've edited the first few chapters to be read more easily, and made (very) minor changes to the rest.
1. Chapter 1

October 29, 2077.

It was over. The war that had raged across three continents and destroyed countless countries and lives had been concluded. America had survived, though only barely. Small groups in areas far from the chinese bombs, and vast populations inside the vaults below. Nearly ninety percent of America had been scoured of life. Those that were left needed guidance now, more than ever.

* * *

Poseidon Oil Rig, Pacific Ocean.

The once-president of the United States is now seated in his new command center. Screens cover a wall with status reports from vaults and images from the few satellites that remain functional, technicians scurry to and fro with stacks of papers, and two soldiers in power armor guard the door. A general approached his desk.

"Well sir, we've made it, but..." his shoulders slump slightly. "Sir, how are we going to fix this? Our infrastructure is destroyed, our space assets all but destroyed,communications are almost nonexistent, Hell, we just got a declaration of mutiny from Mariposa they sent on the twentieth!"

"We already knew about their little insurrection. We can't do anything about it. Yet. Tell me more about the vaults, how many are still functional?"

The general shifted slightly. "Well sir, there seem to be very few vaults that are actually functioning as we thought they would..."

Eyes narrowed, the president queried, "What do you mean, "As we thought they would", general?"

"Well sir.. Vault Tec apparently started some experiments" "Experiments?"

"Yes sir. Super soldier serums like at mariposa and psychological tests."

The president looked at the general for a few seconds, deciding his next course of action. "The experiments must stop. All personnel and records of these experiments will be forwarded to me, and all currently activated assets in these super soldier programs will be liquidated. Tell the vaults that they have a single directive now- Survive until we can reach them."

The general saluted. "Right away sir."

His technological advisor came in at nearly the same time as the general left, holding a stack of papers at least three feet thick. "Mister President! I have the power armor specs you requested!" He said in that cheery-yet-creepy tone all his weapon specialists had seemed to pick up in the last few weeks before everything went to hell.

"I don't think I'll be able to read all of that in time, give me the bare bones rundown on what your project is." Truth was, He had no idea what a HI-FLO Hydraulics system was, nor what poly-laminate composite armor even meant.

"Well sir, after you asked us to look into better radiation protection for our soldiers, and in compliance with your approved modifications, we've managed to create what we call "T52-A Advanced Power Armor". That was a mouthful. "It shares the same frame as the t51-b armor, and is indeed created from existing suits, but allows our troops to navigate radioactive areas as though they were walking along a sunny beach!"

"You've tested this?" The president asked, fearing for what would happen to his troops in some of the worse off areas.

"Well, only in the laboratory. We were going to deploy it on our first scouting mission! It should ward off the worst effects of the F.E.V spills and radiation while still being viably bulletproof!"

"Viably?"

" Well, we expect our former citizens to have mainly small arms with a few rifle type weapons, so the armor has had its radiation lining increased, while removing a few centimeters of armor… It should resist anything under a .50 calibre shell, or it's cousin the 12.7mm then it should deflect those about fifty percent of the time and stop…."

The president drifted away in his mind as the scientist began to go on about statistics and specifications he wouldn't be able to understand anyway. A particularly strange sounding group of words was "cryo positronic radiative fluxes interfering with neuropeptide stimulators".

The president massaged his temples for what felt like the hundredth time that day, wondering how strange the next group of reports would be. Every one of the last fifty was either a town that was gone, turned to anarchy, full of escaped F.E.V mutants, robots, or other miscellaneous and strange things. Not to mention the other Enclave members pressuring him to ignore the mainland. At least House was probably dead. He had always been a thorn in the government's side, as well as a senior member of the Enclave before the war. There had been some anomalies near Vegas during the bombing though... He decided he was going to need more than a drink by the time all of this was over.

A/N- I have big plans for this story, and as such it will take a while for me to get it all together. The first few chapters will be short world building mainly, so bear with me until then!-The Captain.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a month since the war ended, and it seemed America wasn't down for the count yet. An oil rig harbored what was left of the upper eschelons of society -mainly scientists, soldiers, and politicians- and fostered the last hope the Old World had of transitioning into the New.

* * *

A flurry of chaos had consumed the acting command center of the United States, though to call it as much was misleading. The final reports of mainland scouts had come back. The mainland was stable in very few areas, with tectonic shifts happening every few hours as well as the hundreds of thousands of miles wiped clean by both the detonation and ensuing fallout after the Chinese attack. The president began sifting through his reports, searching for sites he could resurrect or begin anew on. They couldn't stay on the rig forever, after all.

"Jenkins!" He said, bringing his most recent aide to him. "What do we know about this 'Navarro" place?"

Jenkins had to recall for a second, having read nearly a hundred reports of various costal facilities that morning. "Well sir, it is a refueling station owne- er, Previously owned by the Poseidon Energy subsidy of Poseidon Oil."

"What facilities does it have we could use?" The president had read every report, but scouts had a funny way of saying things. Apparently "Remote Control Explosives" meant a gas station or oil refinery. God only knows what "Boom;)" meant.

"Well sir, The facility itself was the main oil refinery for that section before, and has the highest capacity of any within ninety miles. It also has an extensive underground command center from before the war, and a town is nearby."

The president thought for a moment. "What is the possibility of civillians being alive there?"

"Almost nonexistent sir, the base was sealed tight even before the war and the town has been overrun by looters. They call themselves "Caesar's Legion" for some reason."

This gave the president pause. "Caesar's Legion? What kind of name is that? Something out of a schoolboy's inane doodling?"

"No idea sir. This Caesar fellow does seem to have a few people in combat armor though. Military combat armor."

"So deserters then?"

"I'm afraid they might be sir."

"The decision is made then, we march on Navarro."

* * *

Sergeant Jensen was a simple man. He did his job, and then went home to his wife. Before that had meant he was going to march out to the barracks, guard the door, and leave after the night guard came around. Now he was going to crush some gang that fancied themselves historians. He examined the pictures the scouts had taken with black humor. He, a trained soldier in power armor, was going to kill men dressed in sports gear. Ha.

The helicopter flight was slightly choppy on the way, as wind currents around the world had been shifted by tons of earth and heat only rivalled by a sun. The landing was assuredly much better.

Jensen left the helicopter, and his orders were clear. No Survivors. A flash later, and his orders asserted themselves quickly.

"That fucking ganger shot me!" He seethed, unaware of the irony in the thought. He shot back, the kick of his minigun almost nonexistent because of his powered armor. The only thing louder than his gun being the yells of his squadmates and the sound of rounds bouncing off of him. A man became a cloud of dust under his hail of fire, a wall falling down after being perforated by nearly ten thousand rounds. Then the melee units came. Armed with what seemed to be shotgun fists, they took down one of his squadmates in a hail of explosive punches. He heard the man's dying gasps over all else, and turned the attackers into a grisly confetti, their sports gear protecting them as well as the air around them. Another man fell when a rocket embedded itself in his gut and exploded. Two men lost in less than ten seconds. "Fuck, fuck FUCK FUCK!" He thought, spraying the building the rockets had come from with fire, and he felt satisfied when something within exploded. A few minutes later, and the firefight was over. Two men were dead under his command, and one more was wounded, though only lightly. He vaugely remembered a saying about plans and first contact as he tended to the corpses of his brothers in arms.

Looks like my "edit a day" died pretty quickly, huh? -The Captain


	3. Chapter 3

The fires of war had not been extinguished by the splitting of a million atoms, nor the destruction of a few billion lives. They had only been delayed. Just a month after the greatest feat of destruction mankind had ever seen a new war was starting. It would not be the last.

There was a palpable tension throughout the command center, as they had lost contact with the first ground team they sent out. Radios were silent, global positioning had been disrupted, and the helicopter that had carried them was nowhere to be found.

The president was furious. This was the last thing he needed. Not only were those men under his direct command, but this would make him look weak to his opponents within the Enclave's remaining power structure.  
"How do we just lose an entire ground team?" He growled, while leaning atop his desk in a manner best described as predatory.

Jenkins stepped forward with all the information they had. "Well sir, it seems that all communications have been lost with the west coast completely."

The president's glare only intensified. "The entire West Coast? How!?" Jenkins had no answers, only speculation by people far above his pay grade. He hoped communications would come back up soon.

"God I hope the comms come back soon" Jensen stated as he and his fellow troopers kept watch over their camp for the night, watching for more of the Legion's troops that had been attacking them spottily over the last few hours. Jensen's men were well equipped, their armor impervious to gunfire and containing waste recycling facilities allowing them to survive indefinitely. But the loss of three members was taking its toll.

"Don't worry boss" said a trooper. "They'll have a copter out here in no time".

His enthusiasm was not shared by the other surviving member though. He only offered a grunt, and went back to patrolling their makeshift fortress. A small building, apparently a parking garage judging by the sign out front. The few cars that had been in the shop were swiftly used as barricades along with the wreckage of their helicopter. The makeshift cover had served them well, blocking any attempt by the ground troops to reach their position.

"Any idea what this stuff in the sky is Sarge?" A large cloud bank obscured sight of the sky for as far as their helmets could magnify, faintly glowing green.

"No idea" Jensen replied, wondering if the jury rigging the lab boys had done would protect them. His Geiger counter ticked faintly in his ear, having been built into the suit. It didn't read particularly high, but any radiation was worse than none. He resumed scanning the tree line for more threats, and wondered how long the clouds would stay.

* * *

Back at the command center, the first recon jet flights had come home after searching for the troopers. Their reports were grim.

"So you are telling me that our sensors are being blocked by clouds?" The president inquired, having skimmed the reports.

Luckily for Jenkins, he had had time to calm himself while they were out. "Well yes, sir, but these clouds aren't ordinary water. They seem to be highly radioactive; When our pilots flew close to them, their Geiger counters went mad. The readout was at nearly a thousand rads a second."

This gave the president pause. "A thousand rads? That would be fatal within seconds!"

Indeed it was, as the pilots who flew too close to the cloud had found out. Three were in the clinic having almost as much rad-away in their systems as their own blood, while one pilot who had tried to fly within them was in the medical lab; comatose and strangely stable.

"It is sir, but it is only within and around the clouds that the levels are that high. On the ground they would barely set the counters off at just over three rads." A pause while the president thought.

"So the ground team has no idea what is above them?"

"No sir."

"And it could just come down at any time?"

"Yes sir."

A moment passed, and the president pinched the bridge of his nose. "God help them then. They'll need it." "God help us all, sir."

* * *

Another horrendously awful chapter out for you guys (and gals?) to read and review as you please. Speaking of which, Reviews would let me know if any of you are actually interested in this story. If you are, review! If you think I should learn to write better, Review! If you hate the Enclave and wish I would stop glorifying America, because it is (or was in the fallout universe) a bravado ridden monument to human excess and greed, Review!:D

-The Captain


	4. Chapter 4

Late Night weekend update!

Once upon a time, there was a country. The country's people were happy, and so it was happy. The country went on as far as the eye could see. Then some bad men made their own country. They were jealous of the other one, so they tried to steal from them. Then they fought, and the happy country was winning. Then the jealous country got mad. They cheated. They burned everything with a sun, and ruined it for everyone. But the happy country wanted to make it better. - A child's rendition of the great war, and it's aftermath.

After a day without contact, the squad was cautious. After a week, they were beginning to get worried. Now it has been two weeks, and one of those has been filled with radioactive rain. Add that to their dwindling rations, and sparks are beginning to fly.

Sergeant Jensen had locked his armor for the night. Well, his clock said it was night anyway. They hadn't been above ground in ninety-six hours. Those clouds had finally released their payload, and the troopers had moved into the basement of the garage. Even with an entire building above them, there were enough rads seeping in to kill anyone without proper protection. Good thing the techs had rigged all of their armors up then. Jensen wondered when -or if- the rain would stop.

"Sergeant!" Exclaimed a trooper to his left who was watching the entrance through a camera they had found and fixed.

"What?" He replied, his voice entirely too loud because of his suit's speakers.

"There's a man wandering around outside - it looks like he's glowing or something!"

"What do you mean "glowing"?" He asked, unsure if it was radiation or the trooper's lack of sleep. Probably the former.

"He has a green glow around him, like the fuel for the cars upstairs" The trooper replied.

"Let me see" Jenkins said, walking over to the screen.

There was a man outside, and he was actually glowing. Not just glowing, but radiating light, like some monster in a cheap horror movie. His clothes were tattered, having holes throughout. His skin seemed to barely hang on his bones. But the worst part had to be his face. His eyes were completely gone, replaced by mottled grey skin and glowing green light. His teeth were gone, and his hair only existed in memory.

"What. The. Fuck." Jensen had never seen anything like this before except in monster movies. Even the wasteland creatures they had seen were not this ghoulish.

"What should we do sir?' The trooper asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see the screen again.

"We need to record this, the science team has to see this." Jensen looked away from the screen and paced back to the wall. He wasn't going to look again.

The trooper started recording to his suit's camera, but he shut his visual feed off. He didn't want to stare at the once-man any longer than he had to.

* * *

Back on the oil rig, they were making a similar discovery to the squad. A pilot had been in the med lab for a week undergoing tests to figure out exactly what was happening to him.

"So doc," He asked, his voice raspy. "Any Idea what's happening to me?"

"Well, from what we can tell, you've contracted severe necrosis throughout your cutis and subcutis, as well as losing your ability to produce keratin"

"In English, Doc."

"Your skin is dying, and you can't grow hair."

"Anything else?" Truthfully, he was worried about the first more than the second. He was pretty sure he needed skin to live. Pretty sure.

"Your body temperature is also nearly nonexistent, and you are emitting miniscule amounts of radiation."

That threw him for a loop, no body heat should mean he was dead. Ignoring the radiation thing, of course.

"So I'm dying?" He asked the doctor.

"Technically, no." The doctor replied. "Your skin is dying quickly, but is almost coming back at the same speed, and your body seems to not need a metabolism anymore. Your cells regrow in the presence of radiation instead of normal chemical means."

"So I'm a zombie or something?" He didn't want to be a zombie, he'd have to kill himself.

"No, no. Nothing like that. You are just not human anymore."

'Not human?" He asked. He liked being human. It was what he'd spent his entire life doing. He had no idea what he'd do If he wasn't one.

"Not fully, anyway. You seem to be mutating into a subspecies. Maybe even one that is hardier than normal humans! I mean, just think of the espionage benefits that not having body heat would give. Not to mention the ability to heal from radiation! Why, I'd bet that you are the most useful thing we have right now!"

That comforted him slightly. But he wondered what that actually meant, seeing as how he was the only subject on the rig. He decided to ask to see the president later, once he had finished his REM tests.

* * *

I never realized how many words a thousand was when I first wrote this lol. Either they all get out at once, or it takes a week. -The Captain


	5. Chapter 5

"There are three types of people, The indifferent, the destructive, and the creative. I am not the first or last.

-Unknown, found inscribed upon a fallen helmet in Anchorage.

The storm had abated, and Jensen saw only death. The corpses of every creature outside his small refuge dotted the landscape. Hundreds of small animals who had survived the initial bombing nearly two months before were lying on the ground, their flesh melted and their bones faintly glowing. Never before had he seen such death. He retreated back into his shelter, thanking whatever gods remained for his shelter and armor. He was the only one. His last squad mate had died, the seals on his armor having been secured improperly in his haste to don his armor once the rain had started. He was currently locked upright in the corner, his armor holding his corpse up in a mockery of what he was in life. He was not alone, as the rest of the squad was similarly held up, though they were missing parts or perforated with rounds, grisly reminders of the men they had once been.

Jensen wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it.

Then his radio came alive, and he knew hope for the first time in a month.

"tsshhh...Encl...Centr...mmand If ther...re any ...vivors, repor...n...on chan...107.2..

Jensen hurriedly switched to the channel, and replied "Hello? this is Sergeant Jensen of the 1st Expeditionary team, is this who I think it is?"

A pause followed, and his heart sank slightly.

"Jensen? Holy hell, we thought you all had died! Where are you?"

"My squad has been holed up in a garage near old Navarro, can you send anyone to pick us up?" Another silence.

"We'll send a helicopter as soon as we can, but don't expect it for at least a day"

"A day?"

"Right, you don't know. We've been attacked by whatever is left of the Reds. A whole fleet just pulled up to the rig and demanded we surrender. I can still hear the fighting from here"

Jensen had no idea how to process that information. They had launched everything they had at the reds, and if they still had the ability to field a fleet of ships then the last bastion of America was in serious trouble.

Back on the oil rig, a similar attitude had sprung up amongst the civilians onboard.

* * *

"Alright, how do we deal with any further incursions by the Chinese? They can't be able to field entire fleets like before the war can they?" The president asked, worried about the possibility of a full scale Chinese invasion after they had just started to pick themselves back up.

"Well sir, the ships were very ramshackle, almost like they hadn't been to a port recently."

"So you're saying that these ships weren't sent by any organized group?"

"I'm saying that they likely were on the waters before the launch, and have been trying to figure out what happened since. They likely thought us an undefended oil rig. Luckily, they were wrong."

The oil rig had been equipped with numerous automated defense batteries, to repel any attacks from air or sea before the war. After it had concluded, the guns were overkill by comparison to projected threats.

"Should we expect more attacks?" The president asked.

"We aren't sure sir, the chinese had a navy much larger than ours before the war. It is likely at least a few fleets and submarines are still around, though with all the radiation about I don't know if they'd survive down there very long."

"Alright," said the president. "We will just have to increase our readiness. I don't want anything like this to surprise us again. Get radar teams set up and scanning the seafloor, and have extra men watching the ocean. They won't catch us with our pants down again." So the oil rig was further readied for war, and the American military machine finally regained its teeth.

* * *

A day later, and Jensen was finally able to leave his personal hell. Nearly a month spent amongst the dead and dying had not been kind to him though.

"What do you mean "Unfit for duty!? I'm completely fit! We need to go and clear out those traitorous bastards and their goddamn Caesar!" The doctors were concerned that Jensen's time on the mainland had unhinged him. They were not being proven wrong.

"Those motherf"

"Sergeant! Sit down and shut up"

"Who the hell are you!"

"I'm your commanding officer, and I said sit. Now do it!"

Jensen grumbled and sat in the folding chair he had been provided.

"Now then, while your Patriotism is admirable, we don't need to chase the Caesar."

"What do you mean we don't need to chase him! He's responsible for getting my entire squad killed! He deserves to die!" Jensen was shaking at this point, ready to strangle the man. CO or not.

"Because we already have him. We found his base inside the old Poseidon facility. A team has been dispatched. Your job in this is over." The officer allowed a silence to form, then spoke again.

"You are taking leave. You are going to go to your barracks, and you are going to be with your wife. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir." Jensen was hesitant before continuing. "I just want to get my hands around that bastard's throat. I need to avenge my squad."

"Son, you're part of the enclave now. We take care of our own. You might be promoted to interrogator if you can behave until we recieve our first prisoner. But you didn't hear that from me."

For the first time in a month, Jensen was glad.

* * *

The Caesar's reign had ended. His band of deserters didn't have power armor, nor did they have proper shelter from the downpour of death that had come. His army was dead or dying, his solders either horribly mutated or simply insane from the pain. He heard them outside, groaning and shambling about. He himself was not untouched by the radiation. His already sparse hair had thinned to a few tufts around the crown of his head, his skin turning a pallid white. He didn't know how long he had, but he hoped the torture would end soon. All he had wanted was to rebuild, all he had done was destroy.

Squad Sigma had no such qualms, having long ago put aside morality in their duty to their country. They were not reservists, wearing cobbled together armor and fighting with projectile weapons. They were the single most deadly squad the United States had ever created. Their power armor could withstand a fat man, and their rifles could vaporize with a single shot. The remnants of Caesar's legion stood no chance.

"Out" A single word uttered, and they were unleashed upon the shambling groups below.

"Fire" Another word, and the ranks before them were thinned in a volley of weaponized light.

"Fix" The lasers had killed a large group, but now the rest were charging, ready to tear the squad limb from limb.

"Kill" The last word that was said. Bodies were tossed aside, limbs and heads being torn from bodies by hand, knife, or power fist. Decaying hands grasped at their armor, sliding uselessly off. Cracked fingernails sought breaches to tear but none existed. Each moan was followed by a gasping breath or tearing sound. Each sound followed by death.

Squad Sigma was the best group of soldiers America had ever created. The ghouls were ants attacking Gods.

A few minutes later, and the Caesar's door was thrown open.

Each member had been ready for armed troops or more shambling monstrosities. What they found was a broken and dying man.

Lesser men may have felt pity for him. Wondered what had brought him to such a state. Some may have killed hime, out of mercy or spite. Not Sigma. They hadn't cared about humanity for a long time. All that mattered were their orders. So they set about the process of stabilising him, those not directly involved standing like statues even without their power armor's inbuilt locks. When the would-be emperor had been stabilised, they gently carried him to the helicopter that had brought them. Their orders said to bring him back alive. He would soon wish they hadn't.

* * *

"It seems that our so called, "president" has ordered the Caesar brought to us." Said the first.

"You question this?" Asked the second.

'It may suggest weakness." Said the third.

'A willingness to conspire with traitors and miscreants" The fourth added.

"This means nothing." Said the fifth, "He is questioning a prisoner."

The first knew that the sixth, or "president" as he was widely known, would return soon. He needed to finish this discussion quickly.

"We shall see what he does. If he falls, so be it. The old world needs to die regardless of who is in charge when it happens"

"We ARE the old world!" Said the fifth.

"No," said the first. "We are the new world."

And so another chapter is thrown into the sunlight! Misused words and paper thin plots abound! Hopefully you guys are okay with waiting longer for chapters. I only have two reviews as of right this second, but the "I'm not a stalker" charts on my profile say there are a lot more people than that reading my story. Complaints or compliments, either way I change and improve my writing, so all you anonymouse readers should tell me how terrible I'm doing! Also, I'm unsure as to whether some of my descriptions would warrant an "M" rating. Thoughts? -The Captain


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the long wait, I had to do some stuff for a thing yesterday. Yep.

* * *

"Brute force has resolved more conflicts throughout human history than any other action. Any thoughts to the contrary are self delusion at its worst." -Unknown.

The Caesar was the first obstacle in the reclamation of America. His "legion" an its actual presence were negligible, their forces only fought in direct conflict once, but word of their destruction would reach those within the wasteland. some becoming hopeful at a restored America, others finding no comfort in the news, having started to carve their own empires from the flesh of America.

Navarro had become a thriving center of activity for the enclave. Its oil refineries producing fuel for the helicopters that were the heart of enclave mobility. The peoples of the enclave were at first hesitant to inhabit the area, having heard about the fate of Caesar's traitors. Once the formidable scientific minds on the oil rig had confirmed it safe however, the common people flocked to Navarro. For the first time in three months they were able to breath fresh air without needing respirator masks to protect them from industrial fumes and the occasional electrical fire. They were able to sleep without the constant rattle of the superstructure beneath them, and the groaning as sea waves pounded their refuge. But most of all, they were able to see what could be reclaimed. What American endurance could create.

For the first time in years, they had hope.

In a bunker a few miles from the newest center of American power, a meeting was taking place between those who would see America's future crushed forever.

"They won". A figure stated, wearing a suit of power armor not unlike that of the reclamation forces in Navarro.

"Of course they won, the legion was just a distraction." Stated another, this one wearing robes.

"The "distraction" obviously failed, as they're nearly a year ahead of your schedule". The first replied.

"How was I supposed to plan for a radiation storm? We will just have to accelerate our plans as well. Gather the rabble we found outside vault 15 and start training them;They need to be combat ready by march."

"What will we do in the meantime?"

A third figure stepped forward, wearing armor with a red circle on a white background emblazoned on the front. He placed a map and drawings of ships on the table, and the three began to plan their attack.

Back on the oil rig, a similar scene was unfolding.

"We won." The president (or six as he was know to those around him) stated to the assembled monitors embedded in the wall.

"WE" "Did not win. The radiation scoured those heathens for us. This was no more a victory than the war itself."

"The public doesn't care. We've taken back the first shreds of American soil, and damn if we haven't restored their confidence in us."

"The public doesn't matter. Have you forgotten our plan? Once we reach the Mojave, we leave this damnable planet, whether house is alive or not."

"Is House alive?" The president inquired. He hoped not.

"We have no clue. He hasn't been on contact, but Vault 21 has opened and started searching Vegas."

"Speaking of the vaults, what were you thinking having their experiments stopped? They were set in place for very good reason."

The president straightened, and took a breath.

"The Vaults hold the last unchanged humans outside our respective shelters. They need to be protected."

"Just because you are the biggest group, doesn't mean you get to decide what our future is. Your bleeding heart will cost more lives than it will save".

"My "Bleeding heart" has saved America, soul intact."

"America doesn't matter. This entire planet is doomed. You need to get back in line."

- A little note about the president. He wasn't the "lie to your face" kind of politician. He got to his office by charming his way into America's heart and being decisive on what the response to Chinese aggression would be. This gained him no friends in the ruling caste of the enclave. Everyone below him would die for him, but those on his level would see him dead. He was also by no means a stupid man, and when the apocalypse came he had managed to have the most resources placed in his facility. This made him irreplaceable.-

"I draw the line now, and you should be glad I allow you to live. I have the most men, most scientists, most fuel, and the most citizenry. I will not leave them to die in some irradiated gutter. I will not leave until America is restored. Whether or not I have to drive you out of your holes is another matter." The president meant every word he said. They knew this.

"You will regret this."

"I regret nothing."

Just like that, three of the screens clicked off. The remaining two waited a few seconds to speak.

"They will come after you now" said the first.

"They will try to ruin you" said the second.

"I know" The president replied, and the last two screens flickered off.

"God do I know" he sighed, and returned to the papers at his desk.

* * *

Barely a week later, and he was faced with another crisis. Navarro had been attacked by men in powered armor.

"Do we know who the aggressors were?"

"No sir. They wore unmarked t-51b armor. They are likely part of the group who seceded shortly before the war".

He had known they would become a problem eventually, but he hadn't expected such a swift attack.

"What are the damages?" He hoped nothing of value had been lost.

"They only managed to burn a few buildings down. Their path suggested that they were heading to the armory, but they were stopped by a squad that were returning their equipment for the night"

"Who led this squad?"

"A... Sergeant Jensen sir. He was heavily wounded though. He is in surgery right now."

Sergeant Jensen. If the president didn't know better, he'd think the man was trying to die. Maybe he didn't know better.

Jensen was the most heavily wounded soldier still alive after the war, and as such needed major reconstructive surgery. He was missing a leg and an arm, as well as most of his innards. If the president hadn't ordered them, the doctors likely would've killed him. But as it was, they were to rebuild him. Even if it was the single most costly project in their short history.

Jensen awoke a month after, but we'll deal with that when we get there.

* * *

A strange mutation seemed to have overtaken both the pilot and the Caesar, changing them from men into monsters. The pilot had lost all of his hair, and his flesh only sporadically regrew. His vocal cords were nearly useless, and his nose was nonexistent. The Caesar was much worse off. He had taken on a hunched posture, his teeth fell out, and any trace of intellect was gone from him.

"What should we do with them sir?" A doctor asked the president.

"You say the pilot still retains his faculties? He is still sane?"

"He is worried about his future with "Those soldier-girls in the barracks" but other than that seems fine."

"He isn't a hazard to those around him? No radiation damage could happen? Is he contagious?"

"No, no, and no, sir. The prisoner on the other hand..." A curtain was drawn, and the once leader of a legion smashed his malformed body into the window separating him from those inside the medical lab.

"Jesus!" The president yelled and jumped back a few feet.

"He is contained, but he is nowhere near as stable as the pilot."

"I can see that. Do you need him for any research?"

"No sir, the pilot is a much better source."

"Kill him then. No-one deserves that."

"Yes sir"

"The pilot is to return to active duty. He will be the first pilot stationed at Navarro." The president was thinking. If their pilot could retain his senses, why not others? Having him in Navarro would sow the seeds of acceptance amongst the population there, as well as allowing any sentient victims the knowledge hat they would not be alone. He needed to call a meeting with his generals to discuss the situation.

* * *

Ten minutes later, and an assembly had been made.

"We have a new group to discuss" The president stated. The generals looked as though they had better things to do. Cataloging traitors was something for interns and lieutenants, not them.

"This is a "Necrotic post-human" He motioned for the slide to show a picture of the pilot.

The generals gasped upon seeing the picture. It was unlike anything they had ever seen.

"What in the blue hell is that?" A general asked.

"This is the pilot who flew into the initial radiation storm clouds. He has mutated into what you see now."

"So this could happen to any of us?"

"Only if you walk through a live nuclear reactor. We do expect to find more in the wastes though." He motioned for the slide to move again, revealing the feral Caesar.

"This is a "Necrotic post-human" as well, except his mind is gone. We expect more of these than any other."

He motioned once again, and the video from squad sigma's cameras began playing. The generals watched in horror as they moaned and began to attack the squad. Between the ruthlessness of the combat and the ghouls unearthly moans, several generals had to excuse themselves.

Once they had re-entered the room, the president continued.

"Our official policy is that the sentient ones are merely crippled and are treated under the same care as ourselves, while the insane ones are to be killed on sight. Death is the greatest mercy we can offer them."

* * *

Side note- Jensen's wife died in this attack. -The Captain.


	7. Chapter 7

Tiny note for readers! Jumping into a moving vehicle is a really shit idea. You will fall and forget the last two days of your life .

Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?- Andrew Ryan, 2026.

The reconstruction of Navarro had been completed. Walls had been erected around the city, and the interior was a microcosm of what had once been America. Two months had passed, and the Enclave had begun to look for other settlements to increase their position.

"Okay, We've finally finished Navarro. Where to next? Ideas?" The president glanced around the room, waiting for his advisors to speak.

"Well sir, there is obviously San Francisco, as it is the closest to us. It was hit hard by the war though, most civilian infrastructure has been damaged and raiders are infesting the city looking for slaves and guns."

"There is also Sacramento, but it is much the same as San Francisco."

"The E.P.A seems to have had a small base near Sacramento."

The president was puzzled. "Why are we considering the E.P.A facility?"

"They had a moderately sized bunker there, and their data collection instruments may have insights into the radiation storm a few months back"

"Anything else of interest there? I don't want to waste troops on collecting data that might not exist."

"Well, our files suggest the E.P.A was developing an energy weapon there. It would run on sunlight if the files are to be believed."

"A solar powered gun? How powerful could it be?"

"We aren't sure, but if we could collect it then adapt it for our soldier's rifles they would never need resupply"

The president considered for a few moments. The need to reclaim cities was growing, as the longer they took the longer other factions would have to form. Even the smallest group would represent a waste of assets as his troops took time to fight them.

"We need to scavenge the E.P.A. Send Jensen there, and send two squads to scout San Francisco. Once they've finished, have them fall back to Jensen's position at the E.P.A." He hoped this mission went better than the last.

* * *

Jensen rotated his arm in its socket. He still wasn't used to being able to turn it completely.

After his mission, the doctors had removed both of his arms and legs, and replaced them with robotic versions. They had also made him a custom fitted suit of power armor. He was the most expensive asset in the Enclave arsenal, and his keepers hoped he would live up to their expectations.

He was to get into the E.P.A bunker, rescue any remaining personnel, recover the schematics for a weapon of some sort, and hopefully the weapon as well. Seemed easy enough. Then again, so did his last mission.

He stepped out of his helicopter and unlimbered his weapon. A plasma rifle with slightly less punch and the ability to be used without powered armor. It was based on something called a "Q-35 matter modulator".

He scanned his surroundings, noting that the only sound was his helicopter fading into the background. Advancing to the door, he found it locked. Luckily for him, he didn't need to pick the lock. His new arms were able to bend six inch sections of steel into tiny bows; no door would ever oppose him again. He nearly ripped the door off of its hinges and advanced inside.

It was a generic foyer, with a large "Welcome to the E.P.A!" banner hanging above the reception desk. He advanced to the sole computer and turned it on. It booted up with a beep, and promptly threw up a login screen. Another of his augments was a password cracker, and as he focused it on the terminal he wondered what he would find inside the bunker.

A beep signaled that he had the password for the terminal. It was "Treelove". Goddamn hippies.

He scrolled through the menus, looking for any sort of security system information or passcodes. Finding none, he turned to the elevator and hoped it still worked. It did, and as he waited for it he heard a speaker crackle to life above him.

"Hello? is someone there? Please, if you can hear me, step up to the intercom and press the button"

He looked about and saw the intercom near the entrance.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"I'm Joseph Vausheim, I ran this facility before the bombs dropped. Who are you?"

"Adam Jensen. I'm part of a scouting team for the U.S. Army". It was a lie, but a small one. "Special agent of the Enclave Secret Service" would only scare the scientist.

"Oh thank god! I was hoping someone would come that wasn't a raider.. you're not a raider right? Step up to the camera in the foyer so I can see you.

Jensen moved to where the scientist had said.

He heard mumbled speech over the intercom, his augmented ears barely picking it up.

"He doesn't look like a raider, he looks like a robot! What if he's actually with that man we saw before?"

"I'm not a robot." Said Jensen, as he took off his helmet.

'And I'm not with any man you've seen. I was sent here by The President of The United States to find survivors and any research on a solar powered gun."

The scientists (he assumed they were scientists) didn't reply, but he heard the elevator ding as it opened.

He walked to the elevator, and was greeted by a shotgun in his face, being held by a man in combat armor.

"STOP!" The man yelled, shaking slightly.

"Put the gun down, I'm not here to hurt you." Jensen said. The shotgun couldn't pierce his armor, nor hurt his augmentations. He had no reason to hurt some random security guard.

"I.. I need some I.D before you can get near this elevator"

Jensen pulled out his badge, created just for this reason. Well, not for crazed elevator security guards, but people who didn't believe he was with the government. It played a small recording of the president.

"This man is Adam Jensen. His arms and legs are robotic and he works for the United States government. If anyone that isn't half robot is carrying this badge, then they are traitors to the United States. Please allow Mr. Jensen the same privileges you would allow me. Have a nice day!"

The guard lowered his shotgun once the recording had finished. "You really are from the government aren't you!"

"Yes"

"Are you really half robot?"

"Yes."

"Alright, well come on then. The doctor wants to see you for something or the other."

Jensen stepped into the elevator. It creaked a bit.

"Sorry, we haven't been able to do any maintenance on this thing since.. well you know."

The elevator descended, and Jensen felt like this was going to be a long day.

On the other side of San Francisco, two squads of Enclave troopers had touched down and were checking their surroundings. They had landed in a baseball field in the center of the city: Everything else was covered in rubble or otherwise unstable. The once-proud skyscrapers were leaning against each other or had collapsed, barring the few that had been made earthquake proof. All of them had been to some degree, but only those built to the higher end of the Richter scale still stood alone. These few buildings were still missing windows on nearly all floors. The ground outside the park was covered in shards of glass, some as big as a man. Nothing would walk these streets for a long time.

The two squads began walking north along the clearest routes they could find. Evac was due in six hours from the E.P.A, and damn if they were gonna wait until the next day to leave.

* * *

"They've entered the old environmental facility."

"Near San Fransisco?"

"That's the place"

"What for? all that's there are those scientists and some plants."

"No clue. We should monitor them though, they know more than we do."

"Have you talked to our newest contacts?"

"The deserters?"

"Those are the ones."

"They seem genuine enough. I'll be glad to have access to their resources when the time comes."

"Are we sure we can trust them?"

"You know we can't trust anyone."

"You know what I mean."

"I think we should be ready to rat them out if they turn on us."

"Turn them over to the Enclave?"

"Take their homes and leave them for the Enclave. But yes."

* * *

One chapter closer to intrawebz domination! Sorry for lateness, I've already mentioned what happened . -The Captain.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm headed for Purgatory when I die. Heaven won't take me, and Hell is afraid I'll take over." - Tombstone of General J.R. Stone

San Francisco was a mess. Thousands of buildings collapsed or collapsing, glass covering the streets, and a very serious wildlife problem.

"Why are we fighting lions!" A trooper yelled as he fired his rifle

"Because some asshat at the zoo decided that having a full savannah was a good idea!" His sergeant replied.

The San Francisco zoo had -shortly before the war- asked that funding be provided for a full replica of what the African Savannah looked like before the war between Europe and the Middle East. Two hundred lions, four hundred gazelles, seven types of chimp, and a hundred elephants were shipped to the zoo. This wasn't an accurate representation, but it was good enough for the public. Now there were big cats roaming the deserted streets of San Francisco, looking for their next meal.

This meant that the two squads were constantly fighting off lions.

The threat was almost negligible, lions being unable to bite through powered armor, but no one liked having a three to four hundred pound animal jump on them.

"Fire left!" A pack had tried to flank them, but one had yelped after cutting itself on glass. After that, it was only dust.

The squads marched onward, unaware of the eyes that followed them through the city.

* * *

Jensen was in a much more serious situation, without any lions, tigers, or bears.

"Oh my!" Exclaimed a scientist when Jensen walked in.

"So this is the gun?" He asked.

"Yes! It is the solarplex multispectrum light amplification and condensation device!"

"Does it work?"

"Oh, yes! Come down to our range and I'll show you!"

Jensen followed the scientist, wondering how much damage something that looked like a toy could do.

"This is a standard military Humvee. Watch what our device can do on its focused setting"

The scientist fired the weapon, and a small stream of light left the barrel.

"I don't see any damage."

"Look closer at the door"

Jensen zoomed in using his augmented eyes. He saw a small hole barely four millimeters wide punched all the way through the vehicle.

"Now watch the wide dispersal beam"

The scientist fired again, this time melting the outer layers of the Humvee's armor.

"Impressive."

"The true genius in this is the solar collector though. It is extremely efficient, with nearly one hundred percent collection! If this was made larger, you could power towns with one or two, and cities with ten! Even now we can run this facility off of one this size"

"Are there any other things your scientists have been doing down here?"

"Not at this facility, no. We were the solar division. There are a few other facilities across America, but I do not know where they are."

"Do you have any idea what they were working on?"

"I heard rumors about a robot project for the moon, but other than that no."

Jensen thought on that for a bit. The E.P.A was just a joke before the war. Professional hippies. But this ray gun was proof that they had larger capabilities than some arms companies and development firms. This was troubling.

* * *

The president was currently in a meeting with his advisors over the newest issues in the Enclave's book. Ghouls and refugees.

"I say we kill all of them! You've seen what the ferals are like! All of them will eventually be like that. Killing them on sight is a mercy!"

The president's most ardent anti ghoul advisor was currently ranting again, his hatred for the mutants clear as his hatred for their plight.

"They are ticking time bombs, and not only do they present a future risk, but our own people are in danger near them! They give off radiation like a pie gives smell, and I'll be damned if ghouls turn into another New Plague!" His face was red, and he took a moment to let his throat rest.

The president's scientific advisor spoke up

"The radiation they emit is nowhere near enough to spread the condition, it takes hundreds of rads to do that. I suggest we create special cities for ghouls, away from our normal civilians."

"That isn't good enough! Those rotten motherfuckers will just rise up and hang us with our own rope!"

His social advisor spoke up next

"The current ghoul situation - that is, having them mixed amongst our citizenry- is not satisfactory. Some civilians are starting anti-ghoul groups like the anti-communist ones before the war. We need to stop this before it grows out of hand."

"So little miss communist wants to protect the poor ghouls from the big bad humans. Well fuck you! Those bastards deserve what they get. They are a threat to America and the Enclave, and should be removed as such."

"I am not a communist! I just think that we shouldn't have judged people based on.."

"Based on what? The fact that they hated America?"

"An economic system"

The president was growing tired of the pettiness thrown between the two, and put a stop to it with a fist to the table.

"The ghouls are Americans. They are crippled Americans. Before the war, the bought food at the supermarket, went home, watched Captain Cosmos, and made Apple Pies. I will not hear any more talk of removing them from our settlements, nor of their sub humanity. Now then, you mentioned anti-ghoul groups?"

His social advisor nodded, and looked at the papers arrayed before her.

"Yes sir, a few have sprung up. The largest of them calls itself the "Humanity First" movement, and says that ghouls are only here to take work away from hard working American humans. Obviously this is not true, as we do not have enough people to fulfill all the jobs that need doing."

"What can we do about these groups?"

"Promote them! They have the right Idea. Give these rotten assholes any room and they'll burn us to the ground."

"Definitely not."

"We could have them help with weapon testing, they seem to regrow lost limbs faster than normal humans."

"No."

"Well sir, an effective tactic in the past has been to create joint groups from the conflicting factions, forcing them to learn to work together. Another has been to have the embattled group perform a service that is only suited to them"

"Ghouls are completely resistant to radiation right?"

"We think so sir"

"Whatever happened to West Tek?"

'Their main facility was directly hit by a Nuclear Bomb, sir."

"Was it destroyed?"

"We don't know. It may have simply been damaged, but the radiation would kill anyone who tried to find out."

"Alright, we can send a group to West Tek. They can search the area without fear, and the public will have to thank them for anything they find."

"They'll just take the weapons and use them on us! The most advanced power armor development facility in the country, and you want to give it to some necrified yahoos!"

For all his faults and prejudices, the Military advisor hadn't gotten to his position by being wrong about threats. Mostly.

"So what do we do?"

"We could send some people with them. Give our troops powered armor and some of those gauss guns and let them ensure loyalty."

"So that's it then, we'll send a squad of ghouls and a squad of troopers to check out west point."

"I still don't like this, sir."

"I know you don't."

* * *

Another chapter out of my brain, and onto your screens. Enjoy? +43 9+ [\]


	9. Chapter 9

Never had so much blood drenched the arena. How could this be followed? The crowd cried out for more. There could be no end to the spectacle now.

- A much better author than I.

After an hour and a half of walking, the edge of the city was in sight. Roving packs of wild animals and glass shards the size of a man had barred their way, but nothing had slowed their pace. Much.

"Sarge!" A soldier yelled.

"What?"

"I can see the building from here"

"And?"

"It doesn't look good sarge"

"Why?"

"It looks like it got hit by a bomb or something"

"This is news?"

"I mean recently, probably shortly after we got here"

"Dammit". He had hoped that they would just be able to poke around and leave.

* * *

Before that, though, Jensen was discussing leaving with his newfound Scientist refugees.

"Absolutely not! Our research here is unmovable. All of our devices would have to be left behind, and god knows those raiders that have become so common would pick this place apart in an instant!"

"You can't stay here. Like you said, those raiders will pick this place apart, with or without you inside."

"I don't care! I will not allow my research to be jeopardized!"

Jensen was getting tired of the scientist's objections. He understood wanting to stand by your work, but damn if this guy wasn't a little bit crazy.

"We can get you out of here and lock the building down. Don't you have automated defenses?"

"No! this is a laboratory not some military bunker!" The man was about to launch into another tirade when one of his assistants spoke up.

"Actually sir.."

"What!"

"All the buildings in this compound have a mixture of protectrons and turrets. They were afraid rioters or illegals would try to break in"

"Why was I not told about this?"

"The board knew you didn't like robots, especially with guns. They installed them when you went to D.C to present the weapon."

"Bastards!"

Jensen finally had an opening to exploit. "Where is the activation room for the defenses?"

"It's in the security office on level three I think."

"Then that's where I'm going. I'll be back in a bit."

Jensen was glad to finally be able to do something instead of just listen to that scientist complain. Then he got a message over the intercom.

"Jensen?"

"Yeah?"

"The team tells me that containment has been broken on some of our specimens. Specifically the ones with musculatures resembling certain Greco-Roman deities."

"So there are a bunch of mutants running around down here, and you didn't think to tell me?"

"It wasn't pertinent to the situation"

"You wanted to stay here with them!"

"I expected the government to come and fix it."

"..."

"Do be careful, they are quite capable of killing a man"

Damnit.

* * *

The squad was finally nearing the entrance to the E.P.A.

"Finally! Sarge, can you believe all the shit we just killed?"

"Stow it. We just need to get in here, and we're home free."

They advanced to the building, when a voice came over the speakers mounted on the building

"Who are you?"

"I'm a Sergeant with the United States Military, and ask that you let us in"

"What was your other operative's name?"

"Jensen."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall, brooding, robot arms and legs, mask like a giant bug"

Jensen was testing a newer mark of powered armor, though his "condition" made the leg, arm, and torso armor relatively useless. The helmet was actually a very comfortable fit, and meshed with the armor he did wear very well.

"One second"

* * *

"Mr. Jensen?"

"What!" The aforementioned Jensen was wrestling with mutants at the moment, holding one down while trying to headbutt the other into submission or unconsciousness. Preferably both.

"There are some men here, they say they are with you"

"Ask them if Friday was good. They should answer Probably, I wasn't there"

"Ah, thank you."

So it was that Jensen finally crushed one mutant's windpipe, and then caved the other's skull in with his helmet. He would have to clean it later, but it was nothing compared to how long the technicians would complain.

* * *

The intercom crackled to life once again.

"Was Friday good?"

"Probably, I wasn't there"

"Step inside please."

They heard the door click, and they moved into the building, each waiting for an ambush of some sort.

* * *

The president was at his office, currently looking over forms to set his newly (re-)formed country. Even though it was only Navarro, he still had to set things such as Taxes and funding allocation to the various military departments. It was his least favorite part of the job, because he could never make everyone happy with such things.

" ?"

"Yes?"

"I've got the reports you asked for, as well as Navarro's mayor on the phone"

"Tell him I'll call him back."

"Right away sir"

He looked at the newest in a long parade of papers on his desk, these ones representing the military research and development side of the science wing. They were pitching an idea for an entirely new suit of powered armor, it would theoretically provide complete protection for the user from small arms fire, as well as having advanced CBRN protection. Hell, even the power source was a group of fusion reactors. The resources to make a single suit were nearly triple that of the current armor though, and materials for fusion reactors that were scarce as of the apocalypse.

He had to give it to the techs though, they knew how to make imposing armor.

The entire thing was pitch black except for the eyes, which glowed like some sort of demon. The main torso was wrought in the shape of a muscular man's chest, the greaves and boots thickening the arms and legs, with the former adding three inches to a person's height. The back had a shell coming up over the soldier's shoulders, removing their normal head profile and providing additional cover to the head.

Then there was the helmet.

The eyes glowed (as mentioned before), and the cheeks tapered around the mouth grille, making it seem like a human couldn't possibly fit inside it.

His secretary walked in again

"Mr. president, the Mayor says that it's an emergency"

"Fine, put him through"

His terminal lit up with an image of the mayor, while he picked up the phone to begin to ask about what the hell was so important.

"Look, this had better be-"

"There are people inside our town! They've killed all the radio operators, they had people inside! They're trying to breach my building as we speak!"

"Slow down, what do you mean people inside? Who is attacking?"

"They came an hour ago, our radios shut off, and then a couple hundred people just came out of the hills with assault rifles and shotgun fists or something! They've killed most of the guards, and now I'm locked in my office. I can hear them shooting and screaming and laughing right now! Send help!"

Then the video cut out, and the president heard a blast, then laughing.

Then came the screaming.

* * *

Jensen finally killed the last of the mutants, and came across what was left of the security team. If he still had guts, he probably would've lost his lunch right then and there.

They had been staked too the walls, rusty chunks of metal crucifying them. Their bodies desecrated, and their blood having been used for some sort of rituals. Jensen's head began hurting.

He had a job to do, and damn if a little headache was going to stop him.

Entering the security office, he finally found what he was looking for- the security activation terminal. A few seconds later, and his implants had cracked the passcode. He turned the defenses on, changed the code and IFF markers, then began to walk out of the room.

He saw something move out of the corner of his eye, and turned to face it.

A man watched him, tattered suit covering a bony frame, with a dark glow about him. Then, the man ran.

Jensen moved to follow, chasing him around several corners, when he hit a dead end.

"What the fuck?" Jensen breathed.

There was text on the wall here. It said "Abandon all hope, abandon all reason. For HE walks amongst us again."

He turned, and began his journey back to the surface, unsettled.

* * *

"Send forces to Navarro immediately. Our best soldiers, our strongest guns, hell, even throw in that prototype helicopter. We need to stop this now."

The president was less than pleased with the current developments, though he couldn't say what was worse. The city being attacked, or it falling so quickly.

Not to mention the mayor's last few minutes of life.

"Yes sir, but what about Jensen and the others?"

"They can wait a few hours until we've secured Navarro." He hoped they could, anyway.

God help them all if there was anything Jensen couldn't take.

Sorry about the wait, my brain refused to write all week. No excuse other than that. Thanks for coming all this way in my story! Side note, This chapter breaks the 10k word landmark I had set when I started. Yay!- THE Captain


	10. Chapter 10

**'Some may question your right to destroy ten billion people. But those who understand realize that you have no right to let them live.' **

**It is the year 2078, and mankind has taken its first steps back from the oblivion they forced upon themselves. Nuclear fire scorched the Earth, and only those with wealth or luck survived the Great War. America's remnants have started taking back their past homeland, whether the people still within like it or not.**

Today was a solemn occasion. The people of Navarro stood with their heads bowed and hands clasped, waiting for their president to arrive and tell them what they needed to hear.

The President stepped onto the stage, and began his speech.

"My fellow citizens, Today we commemorate the sacrifice of our troops in defending this city. The soldiers of Navarro sold their lives to protect their fellow man against those who would destroy what peace we have made for ourselves. They fought against rapists and murderers, deserters and anarchists. Their sacrifice allowed all of us standing here today to continue on with our dream for America. For the world. They will not be forgotten. They will not be allowed to fade into the dusty tomes of history."

He stood aside as a banner was raised, and ranks of soldiers stepped forward.

"Today I create the first Navarran Platoon, to commemorate and remind us of those that were lost, and those that remain. Their first action will be the pacification of Vault 15, the point of origin of our attackers. We will not allow these degenerates to stop us from reclaiming what was ours. It is not enough that they fear to be beaten by us. They must learn to fear the very sight, that sound of us! All who oppose our restoration shall crawl back into the darkness, or die in the light. For the Enclave! For America!"

"For the Enclave! For America!" The crowd yelled back.

* * *

In a decidedly quieter location, Jensen was testing out the newest armor mark the Enclave's scientists had cooked up for him.

"Okay Jensen, run the course one more time"

He had been doing this for hours, sprinting and lifting and dodging gunfire. Frankly, he was getting tired of it. Not physically, the augments prevented that. But mentally. He knew where every camera, bot, and guard would be. Even before his enhanced vision and the extra senses provided by his helmet.

So he ran the course, one more time.

Three sentry bots, six guards, seven turrets, and a small hamster later, the course director was finally satisfied with Jensen's performance.

Jensen decided it was time to take a break.

* * *

The President had returned to his office, and awaited reports from his various advisors. First on his schedule was his Scientific advisor.

"Mr. President?"

"Doctor"

'We have finished integrating the solar cells from the EPA as you asked, and I must admit that they are certainly cheaper than setting up fusion reactors everywhere"

"I had hoped so, but will they provide enough energy for our projects?"

"The very small and the very large ones yes, but things like cars, powered armor, and aircraft remain out of our reach for this technology"

"Why? Can't you just make medium sized panels?"

"We could, but they were made for devices like the raygun. Small, high powered devices with long recharge times. We would have to cover the items in them, and even a glancing hit would compromise their effectiveness. They only work for buildings because we can install so many of them on the rooftops and connect them all to the grid."

"What about weaponry?"

"We have successfully adapted our laser rifles to use hem instead of micro fusion cells. This means that we can produce the rifles cheaper, and as long as the soldiers can find some source of light they can recharge their rifles."

"Good! When can we start swapping out the rifles?"

"That is for the General Logistics officer to determine, but I do have another matter to ask you about."

"That being?"

"Our forces lack any kind of dedicated antitank weaponry. As of now, we've only fought rabble and poorly equipped deserters, but we aren't the only group with powered armor, not to mention the Super Mutants that drove away our forces from West Tek."

'What are you suggesting?"

"Well, Robert House was the undeniable master of robotics, and several of his designs incorporated powerful laser cannons."

"And?"

"I feel we should send an expedition to the ruins of Las Vegas, and try to find any schematics he might've had in his facilities"

The president had dreaded sending troops to Vegas, as he knew better than anyone how tenacious House could be.

"I will consider your request, now please send in the next person."

"Yes, Sir."

A few moments later, his lead military advisor stepped in.

"Mr. President."

"General"

"What do you have to report?"

"The soldiers are getting antsy about being deployed, sir. They want revenge on those Vault 15 bastards."

"They'll get their revenge, In time. What news from our forward scouts?"

"They report that most of California is deserted. Since you ordered all of the Vaults to stay shut until we could reach them, the only communities are of mutants and Raiders."

"What kind of communities?"

"There is a significant presence of F.E.V mutants near West tek, and a community of "ghouls" has sprung up around a fission reactor, as well as around Vault 12"

"Why Vault 12?"

"Their door never closed, sir. The entire upper half of the vault was filled with radiation"

"And the reactor?"

"Likely workers who couldn't escape to a Vault."

"Is there any chance of speaking to these people?"

"The reactor was connected to Poseidonet before the war, as long as they haven't destroyed the terminal we should be able to reach them."

"Good. You are dismissed, unless you have more to report?"

"No sir."

"Send in the next."

So went the president's day, and by the end, He'd decided he needed a drink.

* * *

Okay, so in light of all the shit going on in my story, as well as the month long gap, It's time for a recap!

The Enclave isn't headed by a heartless asshole, instead being lead by the former president of the united states.

The president is a war veteran, having fought in the resource wars, as well as participating in the annexation of Mexico. His political career was full of attempts to smooth relations between the American commonwealths, as each was distinctly interested only in itself.

His care for the idea of America made him an Ideal puppet of the Enclave, and so they pulled strings until he was put into office as President.

Once the Great War happened however, The president saw a way to break the chains The Enclave had shackled America with. He began to put into motion his plans for a unified America, and defied the commandments of the Old Enclave.

The Enclave is a product of the Old Enclave losing control of the President, and is an organization dedicated to restoring America instead of maintaining genetic purity and sending the Old Enclave to a new planet. The main difference being that the President has less goals in common with the other Enclave factions than his main falloutverse counterpart. Or he didn't die. I can't remember the games mentioning what happened to him, but the White House is a crater in FO3.

Jensen was a Sergeant in Pre-war America, and was generally just a random scrub. That is, until he was wounded by an I.E.D brought into Navarro in what seemed to be Brotherhood soldiers. After his surgery, he is faster, stronger, and generally more durable than any baseline human on the planet. He recovered a weapon from the old E.P.A building, whose solar cells will reduce reliance on fission for power, though only in large and small scale devices. Generally, anything bigger than a gun, but smaller than a house is unable to be powered by them. He has also had a recent encounter with a strange type of mutant, though not of the type the E.P.A had warned him of.

The Brotherhood is not yet a technological hoarder's society, instead being run by the first Maxson, who opposes the Enclave and America as a whole. He sees them as corrupt relics bent on tearing the world down for their own gain, and some would say he is right. Mainly those who deserted with him, admittedly.

The Old Enclave wants the new torn down as quickly as possible- A power able to keep them from the resources they need is a problem they cannot ignore. The brotherhood is an ally of this group, strangely enough.

Caesar's legion was merely a footnote in my timeline, seeing as how an Enclave dominated world would remove their entire premise (disillusioned followers doctor turned dictator and friends).

San Francisco is home to a small (New) Enclave base, operated in the old E.P.A building and manned by two squads of soldiers, as well as the automated defenses.

Navarro is Navarro.

The Oil Rig is a neo-D.C type of place. Navarro is the common worker's place, while the rig is home to scientists and military assets.

* * *

Well, there you guys go. The last month of school kicked the everloving hell out of me, between final exams, second semester exams, and general other B.S I literally couldn't get my head around the thought of writing. On the bright side, it's now summer, so expect updates (though I can't promise a schedule). Also, to those nine of you that searched through the archive and found my story, be you followers or anons, thanks. It gives me hope that people care enough to find my story even after a month without updates.


	11. Chapter 11

_The universe has many horrors yet to throw at us. This is not the end of our struggle. This is just the beginning of our crusade to save Humanity. Be faithful! Be strong! Be vigilant!- Warhammer 40k, The Immortal God Emperor._

**As the sun set on Humanity, a glimmer of old world glory had survived. America's soul had sputtered, but did not die in the face of nuclear war, and now its descendants set their eyes on retaking their old home.**

* * *

The President sat behind his desk, files and folders scattered across it, each detailing different operations and general reports from his staff. One was more important than any of the others, at least in his mind.

The Anchorage report.

He had sent planes to the north to survey Canada and what had become of it since the war.

Canada was nearly as bad as America, many of its cities reduced to rubble and dust, while the deep forests had nearly no damage to their imposing stillness. When America had invaded it before the war, the citizenry had been less than happy to welcome their southern neighbors. He wondered how they would react now.

He forced himself back on topic.

The planes had decided to fly farther north than he had ordered, but he was glad they did.

Alaska was intact. There were no visible signs of damage from the bombs, and once the pilots had come within radio range of Anchorage, they had been hailed by American forces within. All the infrastructure, all the troops, citizens, and Oil. All of it untouched by the bombs. A boon like this was almost too good to be true.

He was now to meet the General there face to face, to prove to the Alaskans that they truly were Old America.

His plane left in three hours.

* * *

Jensen was currently on assignment, helping to build a larger outpost near L.A.

After the disastrous mission to Mariposa, and the attack on Navarro, he was one of the few field assets that was allowed free movement. Every other soldier was wither guarding Navarro or the Oil Rig, with the obvious exception of the troopers in the E.P.A building. All air assets were busy fortifying Navarro, or moving supplies and people to the Oil Rig. So he was the only person capable of moving the supplies they needed into position.

Currently he was helping build a wall out of concrete slabs and wood. Not the most secure, but it would keep the Ghouls and animals out.

Ghouls still creeped him out, even after the surgery and the other mutants he'd seen. Not to mention that guy in the basement. He hadn't shown up on the cameras, and the graffiti was gone by the time Jensen had brought the troopers down to sweep the place. Goddamn weird.

But ghouls were the worst. Insane, emaciated, radioactive humans whose only goal was to kill and eat other humans. He had almost become one, if the doctors hadn't gotten to him first. He could still feel the sting of rad-away in his veins, though that might've been his imagination.

A trooper came up to him, and stood for a second while Jensen placed a piece of concrete the size of two men next to each other.

"Sir" The trooper said, saluting as best he could in power armor.

"Don't call me sir. What do you want trooper?"

"Enclave command just sent a message -They want you to scout out a facility"

"Did they say what it was"

"No sir, they told me to bring you to the radio so they could tell you"

"Thank you, you can go back to your normal duties"

"Yes Sir!"

* * *

The President was climbing into one of the new helicopter-like machines. Vertibirds, he thought they were called.

"Tell me again why I'm not just using Air Force Two?"

"This bird is faster and uses less fuel, Sir"

"Right."

His myriad advisors had given him several things to review on the flight. While the Vertibirds may have been faster than conventional aircraft, a flight to Alaska would still take a few hours at least.

From his military Advisor, the current status of fortification in Navarro. Concrete walls and metal gates now surrounded the community, while sentry turrets were placed at several places atop them. The gates were staffed by troopers in the Original t-51b armor, with the newer suits -designated APA-MKII- were being deployed in their forward bases in San Francisco and the newer one that was just being established near Vault 8. It noted that they had already been in contact with the Vault citizens, who had already agreed to serve as an outpost once Enclave soldiers could be allocated for their protection.

He hoped they wouldn't need too many, they were losing too many to their enemies as it was.

At that thought, he opened his scientific advisor's package, and began to read about the new laser capacitors and power armor marks. The president prided himself on having gone to college, but the things the reports talked about were so far over his head, that he could barely figure out what it said (the words meant nothing to him). He knew what a laser was, but all the numbers and specific terminology only confused him.

At least he had people to explain it, he supposed.

One thing did draw his attention, though. A new rifle that could attach to powered armor. It drew charge from the APA-MKII's fusion reactor, allowing it to fire like a Gatling laser, or fire a single shot with similar effect to a missile launcher, though much more concentrated. It attached to the trooper's back, but necessitated the removal of the protective shell around the user's head.

Several pages of technical specifications and numbers later, he reached the APA-MKII section.

The new armor incorporated all of the features of the T-51b armor, as well as several design adjustments from the APA-MKI that he'd seen before. All the suits could attach to the new laser weapon as well, though a note recommended that not all suits were issued the device, because it was too bulky for the trooper to enter buildings without some difficulty, as well as drawing enough power that the trooper would need to be relatively immobile while using it.

He was impressed by his scientist's ability to produce such technologies, even if he did not understand it all. He resolved to ask his advisor about some of these things in the future, if only so he could appreciate their work better.

He moved to his other advisor's reports, and settled in for the flight.

* * *

Jensen had received his orders from High Command- He was to go to the old Mariposa military base and report on what he found inside.

A truck had been dispatched from Navarro, and he would be driven to the facility.

A few hours later, Jensen had arrived, though for the last few miles he'd had to walk. The driver wasn't comfortable bringing his truck so far away from Navarro.

He climbed the last ridge to the base, and began to record data for later review.

Then he saw the mutants.

He'd heard stories about large, humanoid creatures stalking around the old West-Tek facility, but this place was crawling with them. He saw at least twenty patrolling around the parking lot, without any indication as to how many were inside.

He switched to thermal scanning, but it only revealed another in the guard booth. He'd need to go inside to find out what exactly was happening within.

He decided to wait until nightfall, and come back once he could sneak in.

* * *

Night came, and Jensen began the trek from where he'd made camp, to the facility. Once he arrived, he was dismayed to see that the mutants had gotten the lights up and running around the base. Sneaking in would be impossible.

But Jensen hadn't lived this long by refusing the impossible.

He crept down the hill, careful to avoid the sweeping searchlights of the mutants on the roof, and was able to reach the side of the building by sprinting the last thirty or so feet. He slid along the wall, watching for any sign of mutant awareness of him, and opened a side door.

He walked inside, and began to look aro-

A mutant grabbed Jensen by the head, and threw him against the wall, then smashed him onto the metal walkway below them, denting it with the force of the collision. Before he blacked out he heard the mutant call for others to get him.

He was about to learn exactly what happened inside Mariposa Military Base.


End file.
